


Amazing Grace

by Miss M (missm)



Series: The World Beyond [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Javert Survives, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Trope Bingo Round 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 17:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1396744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missm/pseuds/Miss%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During their first winter together, Jean Valjean fell ill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amazing Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "trust and vows" square on my Trope Bingo card. Takes place in the same 'verse as [More Sense Than Honour](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1031871/chapters/2055834), but it's not necessary to have read that one first.

During their first winter together, Jean Valjean fell ill. His cough started a few days after Christmas and only worsened as the year turned. 

To begin with, Javert took it lightly, knowing well enough by now the extent of Valjean's strength, the power coiled in the muscles of his body, the endurance manifested in the scars of his skin. To a man like that, a mere cough was nothing; it would pass in a few days. So Javert found it prudent to keep away for a while to allow his friend to rest, only admonishing him to stay indoors and let his daughter take care of whatever alms were to be distributed.

But when, some days later, he received word from Cosette that Valjean had caught a fever and had to stay in bed, Javert could not ignore or suppress the cold knot of fear in his stomach. The following nights he went directly to the Rue de l'Homme-Armé after work, hurrying along ice-sleek streets with the wind tearing at his coat, driven by longing and pain alike.

On the third night he sat by Valjean's bedside, scrutinising his face for signs of the fever intensifying. Cosette had gone to the apothecary's to buy some sort of concoction; before leaving she had put a cold cloth on Valjean's forehead, her mouth tight with worry. Javert looked at the empty teacups and glasses on the floor and felt the weight of his own inadequacies bearing down on him.

"Will you do one thing for me?" Valjean suddenly muttered, opening his eyes.

Javert took his hand and clasped it. He could feel Valjean's pulse beating against his wrist. "What?"

"If I go --" A shudder went through their joined hands; Javert realised it had come from him. "If I die before they are wed... Will you promise me you'll do anything in your power to help her?"

Javert gritted his teeth against the sick feeling rising from his stomach. Everything that was in him railed against this ludicruous scenario, this intolerable thought: he wanted to protest, to tell Valjean to stop talking nonsense; he wanted to scoff and snort and behave as if he had never heard such a ridiculous thing in his life. 

"You know I will," he said instead, defeated. It was what Valjean wanted him to say.

"Thank you." A mere whisper, followed by a fleeting smile.

It was not enough.

"And you," Javert said, willing Valjean's eyes to stay open. Tonight, he decided, he would not leave his side. "Will you do one thing for me in turn?"

Valjean coughed. "Anything." 

"Then promise me that it won't be necessary for me to keep my word."

A brief press of his fingers, another fleeting smile. Then Valjean closed his eyes, gave another cough, and fell into restless sleep. 

Javert let go of his hand. Giving a deep sigh, he passed his sleeve over his face and bit his lip until he tasted blood. 

 

*

 

In the morning, when Javert woke with a start from his uneasy slumber -- despite the wooden chair and his own resolve, he had nodded off more than once during the night -- Valjean was sleeping peacefully, his brow cooler than it had been for days. The fever had broken.

Javert left for work, bone-tired and nerve-wracked, asking Cosette to send a note to his quarters should Valjean's condition change. He came home to find a letter saying that Valjean had slept soundly and eaten two bowls of soup. Only then did the full extent of his fear hit him; he crumbled the note in his fist, trembling all over.

Over the next few days, Valjean kept looking better when Javert came to visit. The following Saturday, Javert had the day off. They went for a slow walk through the snow-clad streets, before pausing at a coffeehouse for lunch. Later they went to Javert's rooms, and there they spent the night together, making love softly, carefully, with their hands and mouths only. 

Not once did they speak of the promises they had made that night. It was not necessary, Javert thought as he studied Valjean's face, relaxed in sleep on the pillow next to him. The facts spoke plainly for themselves.

 

*

 

February came, and with it the wedding. Javert attended, thanks to Cosette's insistence -- "We owe you so much," she'd said, and he rather thought she meant it. 

Valjean was by his side, watching as bride and groom pledged themselves to one another for the world to see. There were tears in his eyes, but when he met Javert's gaze, he smiled, leaning closer.

"I used to think," he whispered in Javert's ear, "that after this day, I would have nothing left to live for."

The press of his shoulder against Javert's was very gentle, almost imperceptible. But it held more reassurance than any vow spoken aloud, and Javert swallowed, pressed back for a fraction of a second, kept his eyes on the priest in front of them and felt his heart take flight.


End file.
